


Words on a Page

by dare_to_do_our_duty



Series: Lawyer, Vigilante, and Occasional Avenger [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Daredevil (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Braille Printer, Gen, Handwriting, Over the Years, Writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 12:56:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4920469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dare_to_do_our_duty/pseuds/dare_to_do_our_duty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few times over the years when Matt wrote things down and other people had to read it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words on a Page

Young Matthew Murdock ran his fingers over the lines of text he had just carefully scribbled over the page. He could read it, but then he knew what it said.

Chicken. 

Flour.

Apples.

Beef.

Crackers.

Juice.

It would have to do; he could hear his father’s footsteps at the door, the click of the key in the lock as Jack Murdock pushed his way into the house, laden with his bag of boxing equipment. 

“Dad!” Matt fumbled with the edge of the table, standing and launching into his father’s arms, still damp from his shower at the gym.

“Hey, kiddo. How’d the school work go?”

“Good. I finished early, so I wrote the shopping list.” Jack smiled; Matt could hear it when he spoke.

“That’s great, Matt. Ready to go?”

Matt nodded, picking up the cane he had left against the wall and taking his father’s hand in his own. The lady who talked to him a little about how to use his cane said that he should let people lead him by holding onto their arm or elbow, but Matt liked holding his father’s hand. 

“Matty, I can’t read the last thing on the list,” his father admitted in his rough voice, the paper crinkling in his hand. 

Matt took the list back, running his fingers over the page and trying to remember what he had written. “Juice,” he finally decided, mostly based off of the J. “Sorry.”

“No problem, Matty. Your handwriting’s probably neater than mine is.”

MDDM

 

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Skye sat down next to Matt, kicking her dangling legs from the edge of the high park bench. 

“I heard you got in trouble today.” She nudged Matt with her elbow when he didn’t immediately answer.

“Yeah.”

“Clint told me that Sister Katherine was mad about your handwriting and you talked back to her.”

“Yeah.” 

They sat for a moment, Matt’s hands tightening and relaxing on the top of his cane, held vertical, Skye still swinging her feet. 

“Oh well. I guess at some point, you’ll type everything anyway.”

And with that pearl of wisdom, Skye hopped off the bench, pulling Matt along after her and forcing a small smile out of the boy.

 

MDDM

 

“Yo, Matt?” 

“Matt.”

“MATT.” 

Matt rolled over and pulled off his headphones. 

“Can I help you with something, Foggy?”

His roommate staggered against the doorframe. The smell of cheap college alcohol rolled off him in waves. 

“I can’t read your Tort notes.”

“Foggy, why are you trying to read my notes? They’re either in braille or typed online.”

“‘s ‘cause I can’t find mine so I was going to use yours but I can’t read them.”

“Foggy, you can’t read braille.”

“Yes I can.”

Matt had to refrain from rolling his eyes.

“Go take a shower and let the alcohol work it’s way out and then try to find your notes again.”

“Fine. Fine. Be that way.”

Matt waved Foggy out good-naturedly. His friend paused at the bathroom door. “I really can read braille. Just a little. Not much yet.”

Matt stopped. “Yet?”

And he went back to listening to his textbook with a smile on his face.

 

MDDM

 

“Matt? I can’t read your notes from the precinct meeting.” 

“Which notes?” Matt stood, crossing the room and finding the edge of Karen’s desk with his fingers.

“The ones from this morning.” 

“Here?” Matt picked up the edge of the paper, running his fingers over the top line of pen indents. “Sorry, I had to take them in pen because my machine is getting updated.”

He ran his fingertips over them again.

“I honestly don’t know. Ask Foggy, he’s usually pretty good at deciphering when I actually write things down. Or call Brett, he can fill you in on the details.” 

He tapped the desk, flashed a grin at Karen, who was giggling at his over the top shrug, and went back to his office.

 

MDDM

 

“Matt?” 

“Matt, is something wrong?”

Matt leaned the cane against the wall near the elevator and set his bag down on the floor near it, mentally mapping the space. Tony, in an apparent state of agitation, leaning over the back of the armchair and talking at him. Clint lounging on the sofa. Bruce and Steve emerging from the kitchen holding bowls of popcorn. 

“Um… no?” Matt responded. “Is there something going on I don’t know about?”

“You left a note. You never leave notes.”

Matt shrugged. “Usually there’s someone around to tell that I’m leaving.”

“Okay, but you know you could just tell JARVIS that you’re going somewhere.”

The lawyer shrugged again. “I have a tendency to forget JARVIS is there. No offense, JARVIS.”

“None taken, Mr Murdock.” 

“You have heightened senses… but you forget that JARVIS… is it just because he’s not tangible?” Bruce asked, a frown in his voice.

“Yeah. Can’t smell, taste, feel, whatever. And he doesn’t make ambient noise or anything. So it’s easy to forget he’s there compared to everyone else.”

“Huh.” Bruce inhaled like he wanted to continue, but Tony cut him off.

“Back to the topic at hand. Where did you go?”

“I thought the point was that I left a note.”

“Well yeah, but the point is that I can’t read it.”

“Why? I’m the blind one here, last time I checked,” Matt snarked at the billionaire.

“Very funny,” Tony made a motion and Clint made a choking sound. “I just threw a piece of popcorn into Clint’s open mouth, by the way.” His chair creaked. “Anyway, your handwriting is terrible. Absolutely awful. It looks like--”

“-- a child wrote it?” Matt cut him off quietly. 

And suddenly the room was silent. Or as silent as it ever was.

“Shit, Matt, I didn’t mean…”

“I know, Tony.” The corner of Matt’s mouth quirked up in a half smile. “My handwriting wasn’t all that great as a nine year old. And it only got worse from there. Most of the time I don’t even hand write anything, just type it all out. Or use braille, for anything Karen or Foggy don’t need, even though Foggy knows a little.”

“Sorry.” Tony apologized again, much more subdued than usual. 

Matt waved him off, smiling for real. “Are we watching a movie or what? And why don’t I have any popcorn?”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for reading!


End file.
